Tuesday, January 1, 2008

Chuck vs. the Past Chapter 11: "The Big Damn Hero"

11:20 A.M. EDT

July 13th, 2018

Office of Bryce Larkin (DD(O), CIA)

Washington, D.C.

“Good Lord almighty,” Bryce whispered as he saw the pictures of Frank Mullins. “What the hell did she do?”

“She shot him in the crotch with a TASER, then barbecued him by using a stun gun on the metal plate in his face, and then she just beat the shit out of him until we showed up,” John Casey replied, with a small tinge of pride and satisfaction coming across in his voice.

“Is she alright?” Bryce asked with concern.

“Is she al- no, she’s not alright!” Casey practically exploded. “She was tortured for eighteen hours, zapped repeatedly, raped twice, and brutally killed a man! The only person she’ll even talk to right now is Malcolm Reynolds – don’t ask me why, I sure as hell don’t understand it.”

“Where are you right now?”

“We’re at St. Joseph’s Hospital in central Phoenix,” Casey said. “Sarah’s in the E.R. right now, being treated for the injuries she suffered during the rapes. Once she’s released from here, she’s going to be transferred across the street to Barrow’s Neurological Institute – they want to do a full workup on her, see just how much damage was done to her nervous system by being TASEd and stunned over a dozen times in an eighteen hour span.”

“Where is everybody else?”

“They’re all at the Nerd Herd safe house. I dropped Zoe Washburne and Jayne Cobb off there; I had Mal Reynolds stay with Sarah so that the hospital staff had some way of communicating with her.”

Bryce stopped for a moment, and looked at the pages of notes spread across his desk. “So let me see if I’ve got this straight,” he started. “I have a top level program director in questionable health on the eleventh floor of an office building in central Phoenix, along with a GSA employee, and seven civilians, five of whom are from 500 years in the future. In addition to that, I have the DD(I) of the CIA in a hospital with possible neurological injuries, the only person she will communicate with is another civilian from 500 years in the future, leaving a semi-retired NSA colonel as the only fully competent and able person to oversee this operation?”

Casey mulled it over for a moment. “Yep,” he responded. “That sounds about right.”

Bryce was silent for quite a while, and when he finally spoke, he said, “Jesus H. Christ. I knew I should’ve joined the circus.”


8:22 A.M. MST

Omaha Project Safe House

Nerd Herd Phoenix Corporate Center

2701 N. Central Avenue

Phoenix, Arizona

Chuck looked around the safe house and was struck by its sheer opulence for probably the tenth time in the last few hours. It had originally been designed as an executive office and residential suite for Leonard Shoen, the founder of U-Haul, just as the Nerd Herd Corporate Center had originally been the corporate headquarters for U-Haul, until the truck company had pulled up its roots and relocated to north Phoenix in 2015.

When the small, ragtag group had arrived at the safe house just over three hours earlier, Chuck had told Ellie about the events of the last several hours. She had been initially concerned over his heart attack, and then outraged over the fact that he would leap out of bed and go on a highly dangerous mission a few hours later. At the first twinge of pain Chuck felt, Ellie had jumped all over him, informing him that he was going to “sit your ass down and be quiet.”

Nerd Herd employees had set up rollaway beds for everybody to sleep on. Chuck had offered Devin and Ellie the king size bed in the bedroom, which they had readily accepted. Everybody was now asleep, though Devin had called his mother to let her know that everything was now okay and that they’d be home in a few hours. Of course, she had chewed on his ear for a good five minutes about how he’d called at 7:00 the night before, said there was a problem, and could she watch the kids, with no explanation, but as Devin said after hanging up, “Hey, if they couldn’t chew you out, what else would mothers do?”

Chuck was the only one still awake when Casey dropped Zoe and Jayne off. He had had two more rollaways set up for them, and now they were asleep as well. But Chuck couldn’t fall asleep. Despite having been up for more than twenty-four hours now, despite having had a minor heart attack, despite being utterly exhausted, he could not sleep.

Finally, at almost noon, he gave up. Taking the elevator down to the ground floor, he exited out to the parking garage. Picking the first Herder he saw, he climbed inside, fired it up, and exited the garage for the two minute drive to the hospital.

He walked into the lobby of St. Joseph’s, and handed his CIA ID card to the receptionist. “I need to see one of your patients, Sarah Walker,” he said.

She tapped a few keys, checked the computer records, and then said, “I’m sorry, but Ms. Walker is in a high security wing. She’s set for transfer to Barrow’s in two hours, and her doctor has given strict orders that she not be disturbed.”

Chuck looked at the ceiling and sighed. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his National Command Authority ID, the one with the black band and the words “by authorization of the President of the United States.” Handing that ID card to the receptionist he said, “I REALLY need to see Sarah Walker.”

She looked at the ID, back up at Chuck, and down at the ID again, her eyes growing a little wider with each shift in her gaze. Finally, she handed the ID back to Chuck, and simply said, “Room 486.”

Chuck did not go immediately to Sarah’s room. He stopped first at the hospital gift shop, where he found himself utterly frustrated by the lack of decent choices they had for sick people. Finally deciding on a small teddy bear that said, “I survived Phoenix” on its t-shirt, he headed upstairs.

When he entered room 486, he found Sarah awake, staring at the wall across from her blankly. Mal Reynolds sat next to her, holding her hand, looking utterly exhausted.

Sarah’s head turned as Chuck came into the room. A small smile crossed her lips. “Hi, Chuck,” she said softly.

Mal looked from Sarah to Chuck and back again in amazement. “You’re the first person other than me who she’s spoken to since we found her,” he said.

“I’m just special like that,” Chuck said.

“Yeah, you’re special alright,” Sarah deadpanned in a whisper. “Did you get me a ‘sorry you got the shit beat out of you’ present?”

“Well, I wouldn’t QUITE put it that way,” Chuck replied, “but… yes.”

He handed her the teddy bear. She looked at it, read the t-shirt, and laughed quietly. “Ironically appropriate,” she snarked. “I survived Phoenix. Bearly.”

“Oh, God,” Chuck groaned. “That’s just… that’s so bad words cannot describe it.”

Sarah smiled, a twinkle starting to appear in her eyes. “Mal,” she said, turning to him, “would you mind if Chuck and I talked in a private for a minute?”

“Not at all,” Mal said, standing. “Take all the time you need.”

As he exited the room, Chuck crossed to the chair he had been in and sat down. “So, we’ve all been trying to figure out why he was the only person you’d talk to,” he said.

“I’m not sure,” Sarah replied tiredly. “I think it’s because after they found me, he just held me for about fifteen minutes, and let me just cry and cry. I felt safe with him, and after all I’d been through, it was like my brain shut down and just wouldn’t let me talk to anybody but him.”

She paused. “But then, when you walked in the door… you’ve been the single most stable part of my life for the past eleven years, and seeing you, it was like a switch in my mind got reset, and I felt safe to talk to other people again. Or at least, to you. Casey could walk in the door, and for all I know, I might freak out.”

“He provokes that reaction in a lot of people,” Chuck said wryly.

He drew in a breath and let it back out slowly. “I suppose I should go back to the safe house,” he said. “If Ellie wakes up and finds me not there, I might be a dead man.”

Standing up, he said, “Do you want me to send Mal back in? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

“Send him back in, if you wouldn’t mind,” Sarah replied. “I mean, I feel okay right now, but when you walk out the door, I might go back to being scared to be alone, and it’d be nice to have somebody in here. Besides which, he’s pretty hot, and I enjoy having him around.”

She stopped suddenly, and Chuck raised his eyebrows, an impish grin forming on his face.

“Uh… I think that last bit was the morphine talking,” Sarah rationalized. “Do me a favor and keep that to yourself, would you?”

“It’s gonna cost you,” Chuck laughed as he went out the door.

Mal walked in the door a moment later, a puzzled look on his face.

“What did Chuck mean when he said that her royal highness wanted my fine ass back in the room?”


5:30 P.M. MST

Omaha Project Safe House

Phoenix, Arizona

“So, we were able to identify all the dead-cover Fulcrum agents using the information in Mullins’ PDA,” Casey said. “It looks like it’s safe for us to go back to Los Angeles.”

“Casey, it’s been one day,” Chuck protested. “How is that possible?”

“Your agents,” Casey replied. “We got the names out to your Omaha agents, they figured out where the Fulcrum folk were, and the FBI took them down right quick.”

Chuck shook his head. “If only we always had such efficiency.”

“Keep dreamin’, Chuckles,” Casey cracked. “Anyway, we can go back; however, Barrow’s Neurological Institute is insisting Sarah stays here for at least a week. I’m not too comfortable with leaving her here alone, so we need somebody to stay here with her.”

“I’ll stay,” Mal said immediately. He had been brought to the safe house when Sarah was taken over to Barrow’s.

“I was thinking Chuck, Morgan, or myself,” Casey replied. “A government person.”

“Does it really matter, though?” Mal asked. “It’s only five blocks from here to the hospital – it’s not like I’m going to get lost between here and there. You’ve got an entire agency office here – I’m sure you can spare an agent to make sure I don’t do something stupid.”

Casey looked at Chuck. Chuck shrugged noncommittally. Casey turned back to Mal. “Well,” he said, “it’s not ideal… but if you’re willing to do it, we’ve got the assets here to keep an eye on you, and that would keep the three of us free to keep an eye on the rest of your motley crew.”

An hour later, Chuck, Casey, Devin, Ellie, and the remainder of the Serenity crew were downstairs, loading a Suburban and a company Lincoln for the trip to the airport.

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd that Mal wanted to stay behind with her?” Casey asked nobody in particular.

“Not at all,” Zoe said. “Clearly you haven’t seen the looks he gives her when she isn’t watching.”

“Seriously?” Casey replied. “I haven’t seen anything at all.”

“That’s because you’re a man, Casey,” Ellie chided him. “Of course you wouldn’t notice it.”

“And of course,” Kaylee interjected, “even though she really saved herself, he’s the one that gave her a safe place to go to after they found her. As a result, her mind will perceive him as her big damn hero, so I don’t think she’ll mind either.”

“Mal’s her ‘big damn hero’?” Chuck asked in disbelief.

Zoe smiled. “Isn’t he just.”

Chuck vs. the Past Chapter 10: "A Woman Scorned"

Warning to readers: this chapter contains a certain amount of rather graphic violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Also, this is the last chapter that I would characterize as "dark". The story will return to a certain degree of light and fluffiness in the next chapter.


4:45 A.M.

July 13th, 2018

9000 N. Central Avenue

Phoenix, Arizona

The old blue Ford Crown Victoria blazed north on Central Avenue going at least 30 mph over the posted speed limit of 40. Casey had commandeered the car at gunpoint, taking the keys to the car from the lobby security officer.

“Old cop car,” he said, sitting down in the driver’s seat. “Not quite as shiny as my old Crown Vic, but it’ll do.”

Jayne looked at him curiously. “Did you just call your car shiny?”

“Yeah,” Casey replied, turning over the Ford’s big V8 engine. “I’ve called stuff that I liked ‘shiny’ for years.”

Jayne turned and looked at Mal. Mal shrugged.

Casey had gone flying out of the Chase Tower parking garage with enough velocity to catch a little air. Slamming down onto Monroe Street, he had powerslid the Crown Vic to go west bound and then again to head north on Central. He looked in the rear view mirror and noticed Captain Reynolds’ pale face, with no small satisfaction.

“Talk to me, Larkin,” he had said to his Bluetooth, trying to get a fix on the helicopter.

“The chopper’s headed north,” he heard. “Just head straight north and follow it.”

Casey had gone blazing up Central Avenue, but now, as he flew past Dunlap Avenue, he began to notice something disquieting. He wasn’t the only one.

“Uh, John, the street’s getting really narrow really quickly,” Zoe said from the backseat.

“Yeah, I can see – shit,” he said, as Central came climbing to a dead end. “Larkin! We’ve run into a mountain!”

“Yeah,” Bryce replied. “Uh, your GPS is showing that you just passed Dunlap Avenue?”

“I think so,” Casey said. “I have no idea.”

“Okay, well, turn around, and go back down to the intersection at Dunlap,” Bryce instructed. “Then turn right, go… looks like one point five miles west to Nineteenth Avenue, and turn right.”

Casey wheeled the Crown Vic around, and that’s when he noticed a couple of non-standard switches on the dashboard. Flipping them, he was rewarded with flashing lights lighting up in the grille and back window, and sirens blaring.

“Once a cop, always a cop,” he muttered with a grin. “Shiny.”

He now appeared to have justification to drive like a maniac as he weaved his way in and out of the very early morning commute on Dunlap. As he swung a hard right to head north onto 19th Avenue, the sun was beginning to peek its way over the mountains.

Casey’s phone rang. “They’ve landed,” Bryce said. “Deer Valley Municipal Airport, and they’ve gone inside a hangar.”

“Think it’s the same trick as they pulled on us in Redlands?” Casey asked.

“I don’t know,” Bryce replied. “I don’t think so – they didn’t have any advance warning on this one.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Larkin,” Casey growled. “This is Fulcrum we’re talking about here.”

“Yeah, well, you’re only six miles away,” Bryce replied as they crossed over Cactus Road. “Just keep heading north, and the hangar will be the fifth building on your right just north of Deer Valley Road.”

Casey disconnected. The only noise in the car for the next few minutes was the blare of the siren and the roar of the engine. Mal and Zoe carefully checked their guns, making sure they were properly loaded and ready. Jayne had his finger resting on the trigger guard of his gun – he had called it “Vera”, even made sure to introduce “her” to Casey.

When Casey reached the right hangar at Deer Valley Airport, he didn’t bother with driveways – he just yelled, “Hang on!”, hung a hard right, and plowed through the chain link fence onto the airport grounds. One of his tires was punctured, but it didn’t seem to matter as they spun around the front of the hangar and the car skidded to a stop.

“Federal agents! GET ON THE GROUND!” Casey boomed as he leapt out of the Crown Vic and crouched behind its driver’s door, the car’s high beams illuminating the interior of the hangar.

Then Casey stood up straight. Those same high beams that illuminated the hangar’s interior clearly showed that there was nothing in it but an abandoned Phoenix Police helicopter.

Casey started to growl quietly, then his growl rose to an unintelligible roar as he stalked toward the helicopter, raised his gun, and put an entire clip through its windshield. “SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!” he bellowed, throwing his gun to the ground.

He was quiet for a moment, and then, “SHIT!”

Hanging his head, he dropped his fists to his side, clenching and unclenching them. The three Serenity crew all stayed by the Crown Vic, afraid to approach him. Finally, he lifted his head.

“Call: Bryce Larkin.”

Casey was still for a moment, and then he spoke again. “We lost them.”


6:02 A.M.

Abandoned CostCo store

27th Avenue just north of Bell Road

Phoenix, Arizona

Bob Richter cowered in the corner of the former warehouse store, hands over his ears, trying to block out the horrible noise.

An hour earlier, the helicopter they were in had landed at Deer Valley Airport, and parked in a hangar where a Fulcrum agent was waiting for them with a Lincoln Towncar. Frank Mullins had proceeded to tie up both the agent and the Phoenix PD pilot at gunpoint, and thrown them into the trunk of the Towncar.

He forced the still-restrained Sarah Walker into the backseat of the car, and then had to hold Richter at gunpoint to get him into the car. “I won’t tell anybody, I swear,” Richter had begged. “I just don’t want to be involved with this anymore.”

“Oooh, tough shit!” Mullins had replied, with a somewhat maniacal laugh.

Mullins had swung the Towncar around onto the driveway out of the airport. As he pulled out and turned left onto the street marked 19th Avenue, Richter saw what looked like an unmarked police car crash through the chain link fence right next to the hangar they had just been in.

"Idiots," Mullins muttered under his breath.

When they reached the old CostCo, Mullins had decided he was going to take his revenge on Director Walker not by killing her, not by beating her, not by torturing her – but by violating her as thoroughly as he possibly could. The first time around, she had screamed – a horrible scream, one that tore at your mind like a bulldozer tears at concrete.

At that point, Richter had had to go outside the store. A few minutes later, Mullins joined him outside. “Beautiful morning,” he had said. “Get your ass back inside the store or I’ll kill you.”

Now Mullins had started up round two. Sarah Walker wasn’t screaming this time. Just whimpering in pain and fear. And Richter couldn’t take it anymore.

Going as far away from Mullins as he could, he slid his gun out of the waistband of his pants and pulled his phone out of his pocket. With trembling hands, he dialed a number he knew by heart.

One ring. Two rings. “CIA Langley, this is the switchboard, how may I direct your call?”

“I need to speak with DDO Larkin,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t simply connect calls to Director Larkin,” the woman who answered the phone replied.

“Tell him that Bob Richter is on the line.”

There was silence for a moment, and then another ring.

“Richter, you are in deeper shit than you could probably have ever imagined,” Bryce Larkin’s voice sounded angrily in his ear.

Richter didn’t reply. He just said, “Tell Casey that we’re at the abandoned CostCo. It’s on 27th Avenue, north of Bell.”

Then, he cocked his gun, stuck it in his mouth, and pulled the trigger.


Sarah’s mind had almost detached itself at this point. Her body was being brutalized, but her mind was acting as an outside observer. With every move that Mullins made, her mind analyzed his weaknesses, trying to figure out a plan of escape, and determining whether her body would be physically able.

When Bob Richter’s gun came off, it was a shock to both Mullins and Sarah. Mullins stopped what he was doing, stood up, and fastened his pants. Sarah heard his footsteps echo as he crossed to where Richter was.

“Aw, Bob, what the fuck did you go and do that for,” she heard him say. “You’re no good to me dead!”

As Sarah’s mind analyzed this, it realized that the curled-up position she had been left in on the floor placed her in a spot where her left hand could reach the stiletto concealed in the heel of her right boot. Straining her fingers, she managed to release the weapon. Very carefully, so as not to stab herself, she used the point to pick the lock on her handcuffs, releasing her hands – and then she just lay there.

She tensed her arms as Mullins returned, and then, when he was in range, she struck like a snake. Moving quickly despite the severe abuse her body had been subjected to in the last eighteen hours, she plunged the stiletto into the back of his right knee. Mullins howled in pain, like a wounded dog, and collapsed to the floor.

He had left his gun belt on the floor. His TASER, his stun gun, and his 9 millimeter Beretta were all holstered on it. As he writhed in pain, Sarah slowly got to her feet, and limped over to the gun belt.

Drawing the TASER, she spoke. Her speech was slurred from the damage her nervous system had endured, but Mullins still understood her just fine when she said, “Well, lookie what we have here.”

Carefully, she aimed the TASER, and then pulled the trigger. The dart flew straight and true, penetrating Mullins’ pants and delivering 20,000 volts of electricity directly to his crotch. He screamed in pain, an unearthly scream like Sarah had never heard before. But she didn’t care.

The next thing she drew from Mullins’ gun belt was the stun gun. “I cannot begin to count the number of times you’ve zapped me with this thing since noon yesterday,” she slurred, a growl beginning to form in the back of her throat.

“SO LET’S SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!”

She dove to the floor, careful not to touch him, and slammed the stun gun against his right cheek – where the metal plate was. As she pulled the trigger, the electricity flowed out of the gun directly into that metal plate, frying any tissue it touched. Her eyes grew wild and an animal intensity filled her. A primal scream ripped involuntarily from her throat as Mullins was electrocuted. His scream grew higher and higher in pitch, until finally, he could scream no more.

When the stun gun’s battery ran dead, Sarah had crossed the line of sanity. She began to beat Mullins with her fists, not caring if he was alive or dead – this was revenge, plain and simple.


6:11 A.M.

When Casey entered the abandoned store, the only thing he heard was the distinctive sound of flesh hitting flesh. “Federal agents!” he called. “Put your hands in the air!”

Lifting the Maglite that had been in the security agent’s car, he saw what appeared to be Sarah Walker whaling on what he wasn’t sure was a living human or a corpse. “Director Walker!” he called as he approached. “Walker! You need to stop!”

But she wasn’t listening. He could hear sobs of frustration and rage tearing out of her as she continued to pound away. When he reached her, he carefully and gently touched her left shoulder.

“Sarah.”

She stopped instantly. She pulled away from the body, sat down on the floor heavily. She raised her blood-covered hands to eye level, looked at them, and then looked up at Casey. “You never called me Sarah before,” she said softly, almost sounding like a little girl.

Casey looked from Sarah to the body next to her. “My God,” he gasped. “Is that Mullins?”

Sarah just nodded.

Casey was astounded at what was left of the former Fulcrum agent. His eyes had burst out of his skull, his trachea had exploded, and Sarah seemed to have beaten the left hand side of his head into a bloody pulp. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed involuntarily.

Sarah looked over at what was left of Mullins, and began to shake violently. “I didn’t have a choice,” she sobbed. “He… he… he raped me… he was going to do it again… and again…”

Mal, Zoe, and Jayne had walked up behind Casey. Zoe and Jayne stared in shock and horror at Frank Mullins’ corpse, but Mal crouched down by Sarah, removed his jacket, and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then, he wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her tight against him.

Sarah’s hands grasped his shirt lapels, and she buried her face in his chest. “He… he… it… it hurt so bad,” she cried softly. “I had to…”

The hardened, trained, long time CIA agent, assassin, and deputy director turned into a quivering mess as she totally lost control in Mal’s arms. “Shhh,” he said gently. “It’s okay. You did alright.

“He’s not going to hurt anybody anymore.”